


No Hands

by dinglehoppersaplenty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-10
Updated: 2012-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinglehoppersaplenty/pseuds/dinglehoppersaplenty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has a certain talent he thinks Derek might enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this video: ([NSFW](http://dinglehoppersaplenty.tumblr.com/post/30622575171/the-cimmerians-tuosday-cum-with-no-hands)).
> 
> Also, warning: there are some preferences toward light bondage. I didn't know where to put that warning, (hi, brand new to AO3,) so they're getting mentioned here. Also some marking, sort of.

“I can make myself come with no hands,” Stiles blurts one night, and Derek pauses in his kissing down Stile’s chest to look up at him.

“What.”

Stiles grimaces, looking away from Derek, and Derek can hear the younger boy’s heart-rate increase even further. “I just—you were talking, the other day.” He closes his eyes as if preparing for some sort of blow, like Derek would ever think about hurting him when they’re like this, when they’re talking about  _this_. “About—making me come, just on your—on your cock someday, without you touching me, and I just—wanted to let you know. That I can. Already.”

So that explains where the thought came from, but Derek is still trying to process,  _make myself come with no hands_. “How?” he asks, lifting himself up over Stiles, and Stiles peeks one eye open.

When he sees that it’s genuine curiosity, he opens both eyes, but still looks down between them, where Derek is resting between the open vee of his legs, both of them still in their jeans. ”I dunno. It just…I can just do it.” He chuckles to himself, stomach muscles fluttering beneath Derek’s, and adds, “It’s kind of fucking awesome, to be honest.” He pauses. “Unless you meant how I found out, which, let’s just say there was some trial and error.”

Derek groans and ducks in to capture Stiles’ mouth. Stiles makes a “mmpf” sound, like he wasn’t done talking yet, but he’s never really done talking yet, so Derek uses his open mouth as an opportunity to delve in with his tongue.

The idea of Stiles coming untouched besides Derek’s cock in his ass and hands on his hips (and maybe some handcuffs or rope, just to make sure he didn’t touch) was already hot as fuck. But that Stiles can do it without any stimulation at all—had practiced doing it that way—kind of makes Derek’s brain short circuit.

“Show me,” he says when they break apart, and Stiles’ eyes flutter open, still a bit dazed. “Show me,” he repeats, letting the growl in his throat escape through his teeth.

Stiles mouth curves up in a smile. ”Yeah?” he asks, like that hadn’t been his angle from the beginning.

Derek shuts his mouth with another searing kiss, grinding down into Stiles once, twice, and then tears himself away, tipping onto his side next to the boy. Stiles watches as Derek backs off, putting space between them, propping his head up on one hand. Nothing happens for a moment, Stiles still looking at him like he wants to roll back into Derek’s space and finish what they started, but Derek just raises an expectant eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles says in agreement with himself, and he quickly unzips his jeans and pushes them off his hips. He’s hard under his boxer-briefs, the tip almost reaching the waistband, and Derek resists the urge to reach out and touch. That would defeat the purpose.

Stiles settles deeper into the bed, closing his eyes, and nothing really happens for a few moments. Derek just takes him in; the pale skin of his chest and stomach dotted with moles and freckles, the way his flesh stretches across bones and muscle, the dark, thick trail of hair that leads down from his belly button beyond the waistband of his underwear. The way his breathing becomes slow and measured, even as his heart-rate keeps at a constant high.

Then his cock twitches beneath his briefs, stomach muscles clenching and a small noise escaping. Derek sucks in a breath, feeling like he’s been punched in the gut as the smell of Stiles’ arousal grows stronger.

His cock twitches again, Stiles shifting his hips and groaning softly. Then again, and again, and again, and Stiles is groaning and whimpering and shifting, the muscles in his stomach and hips flexing, and it’s even hotter than Derek expected.

Stiles’ hands clench in the sheets, dick twitching and hips thrusting minutely into nothing, while his mouth hangs open, panting and making cut-off noises that Derek wants to swallow down. He doesn’t move to touch Stiles in any way, even though his body is burning for it, not wanting to ruin Stiles’ concentration; this whole thing is just as much of a denial for Derek as it is for Stiles. To keep himself sane, Derek reaches down, palming his own erection, unable to comprehend being able to get off like Stiles is doing when even just the touch of a hand makes things ten times better.

Stiles back arches off the bed just then, his ribs in sharp relief while his cock pulses, and if Derek wasn’t able to tell when Stiles came by the smell of his come, he’d almost believe that Stiles was coming just then. Instead, Stiles exhales loudly, body sinking back down, and groans, even while his body keeps twitching.

“Fuck,” he says on a harsh exhale, and unfists his hands, instead bringing them up to hang on to the headboard. To keep himself from touching. Derek has flashes of cold steel around Stiles wrists, and presses harder on his dick.

Stiles gets back into a vague sort of rhythm again, and Derek just drinks him in. There’s a thin layer of sweat beginning to shine across his skin, adding to the scent of musk he’s pretty much permeating by now. His face is a mix of concentration and pleasure, mouth open to better let him gasp for air, eyelashes fanning across his cheeks and forehead wrinkled. His hands are wrapped tightly around the headboard, muscles in his arms straining, and Derek can almost hear the blood pulsing in his veins.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, Derek!” His hands come off the headboard, one to clench in the sheets, the other trying to find hold in the skin of Derek’s back, his shoulders rising off the bed as he clenches in on himself, cock jerking wildly underneath the cotton, the strong scent of Stiles’ come hitting Derek like a slap to the face.

“Jesus,” he says, and doesn’t even wait until Stiles is completely done before peeling back his underwear, a glob of come too thick to stick to the fabric slipping down the groove of Stiles hip and into his pubes. Derek wants to taste it, so he does, leaning in to lick it up, salty and bitter, and he sucks the head of Stiles’ dick into his mouth to catch the last bit of come dribbling out of it.

Stiles yells, nails dragging red welts across his back that are gone as fast as they appear, and Derek groans when he feels Stiles’ cock twitch in his mouth and give another weak spurt. He sucks harder, wanting more, but Stiles hisses and scrabbles at his back, panting, “No more, please Derek, I can’t,  _I can’t_ ,” so Derek lets him go.

Stiles slumps back against the bed, his harsh pants almost enough to cover up the sound of his thudding heart. Re-situating himself so he’s on his knees, Derek quickly unzips and shoves his pants and boxers down his hips, needing to come so badly it almost hurts now, and quickly pumps his hand over his dick, needing barely a dozen strokes before he’s coming, painting thick stripes of white over Stiles abs, hips, cock.

Stiles groans but not in a good way, a hand flapping weakly at him. “Did you really have to do your whole ‘marking my territory’ thing? Everyone knows we’re fummpf—”

Seizing the moment of Stiles’ distraction, Derek smears his come across Stiles skin, enjoying the way the flesh jumps at his touch, liking the way the scent of their come mingles together. This time Stiles does groan in a good way, and Derek smirks into the kiss when he feels Stiles’ dick twitch against his wrist.

Stiles breaks away, letting out a strung out laugh as Derek kisses his way down Stiles’ jaw, latching onto the point where his pulse flutters quickly against his lips. “You’re going to be the death of me,” Stiles mutters, shifting into Derek’s space.

Derek freezes, smoke he never inhaled filling his lungs, the phantom taste of blood on his lips, suddenly seeing Stiles cold and pale and stinking of death, eyes staring at nothing, just because he’s more fragile, just because he’s human.

Stiles freezes as well, backtracking and panicking. ”Shit, bad choice of words, I’m sorry,” he rushes, pulling on Derek until he acquiesces and rolls on top of Stiles, settling between his legs and smearing their come between them. Stiles brings their mouths together, soft, almost chaste. “I’m sorry. Hey. C’mon, I didn’t mean it.”

Derek shakes his head, growls, doesn’t look into Stiles’ eyes.

Thankfully he seems to understand, and instead of pressing the issue, tucks Derek’s head against his neck, where Derek can hear his pulse beating, loud and strong. Derek nuzzles in, wanting to bury himself under Stiles’ skin, but settles for the reassurance that he’s still alive, and just breathes him in.

“Sorry I ruined the mood,” Stiles says some time later, when Derek peels himself off and uses Stiles’ ruined underwear to wipe away the worst of their mess.

“It’s okay,” Derek grunts, shucking off his pants.

Stiles doesn’t say anything as Derek crawls back into bed, even though he would normally complain when Derek manhandles him into the little spoon position. It kinda freaks Derek out, enough so that he almost asks Stiles to start talking if only so he can tell him to shut up when thankfully Stiles does it himself.

“But it was good up until then, right?” He tugs at the arm Derek has around his waist, twining their fingers together before dragging their hands down to his belly button. He scratches the hair there, Derek doing so as well by proxy; it’s a little stiff with dried come. “I mean, I don’t know about you, but I had an awesome orgasm.”

Derek shakes his head and nuzzles into the skin behind Stiles’ ear. “Shut up, Stiles.”


End file.
